The Systemic Veins
by teaandtoves
Summary: "Tomorrow.  Tomorrow he would try harder to be normal and make Sherlock seem normal.  Tomorrow he would be good and Sherlock would be good and they would finally get adopted.  Tomorrow." Orphan kids Mycroft and Sherlock, Adult John, John/Dimmock
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft read the book quietly to his younger brother, who was curled up in his lap. "Most of the veins of the heart open into the coronary sinus. This is a wide venous channel about 2.25 cm. in length situated in the posterior part of the coronary sulcus, and covered by muscular fibers from the left atrium." Sherlock shifted, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and quietly letting Mycroft use Sherlock's hand to point out each of the body parts on the drawing in the book. Mycroft smiled and kissed his brother's forehead. The three year old giggled sleepily and the older boy put a bookmark in.

"We can continue the systemic veins tomorrow, Sherlock."

Sherlock whined softly and snuggled close to Mycroft, putting his fingers back in his mouth. Mycroft smiled and turned off the light, pulling the blankets over them and pulling his brother close.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try harder to be normal and make Sherlock seem normal. Tomorrow he would be good and Sherlock would be good and they would finally get adopted. Tomorrow.

* * *

><p>John yawned as he pulled <em>Gray's Anatomy<em> out of his bookshelf and opened it to a random page. God, he felt so _old_. He had read this book _ages_ ago in Uni. He ran his fingers over the words. _Most of the veins of the heart open into the coronary sinus. This is a wide venous channel about 2.25 cm. in length situated in the posterior part of the coronary sulcus, and covered by muscular fibers from the left atrium._

His phone rang loudly, jarring him from his thoughts. He picked up the phone and opened it, pressing it to his ear as he put down his book. "Hello?"

"John, it's Greg."

John smiled and sat down in his chair. He had met Greg, a copper, at a pub, where they had bonded over their favorite football teams. It quickly became a weekly thing, if Greg hadn't been called into work for a murder.

"Hello, Greg. Are you going to have to cancel tomorrow's drinking?"

"No, no. I just remembered that you were looking to adopt some kids, and I met these two orphans…"

* * *

><p>Mycroft held his little brother's hand tightly as he sat in his spot, watching the adults who were talking with the kids. Most of them couldn't have kids on their own for one reason or another. A few had come to talk to them, but after Mycroft slipped up - <em>for the third time that day he said he was going to be better for Sherlock it had been months but he still slipped up he had to try harder <em>_**harder**__- _ no one had come by, seeing how the other adults reacted to them. Sherlock was quiet, alternating between fidgeting, looking around at the kids and adults, and looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed and leaned over, kissing Sherlock's forehead. "No one's going to take us today," he said quietly, squeezing the younger boy's hand, telling him silently that it was okay. They had each other.

The door opened and a man hobbled in, leaning heavily on a cane. Mycroft looked him over quietly. Ex-army, discharged honorably due to injuries. Doctor, most likely. Single. He had hesitated at the door, wondering if he could really give a kid a good home. A good man who would take good care of the child he adopted. And he hadn't seen Mycroft slip up yet.

Sherlock started to fidget more when Mycroft stiffened. The doctor looked around, talking to some other kids quietly, getting to know them, before ending up in front of Mycroft and Sherlock. Mycroft went to stand up, but sat back down as the doctor slowly lowered himself to kneel in front of them. He was a very good man. Mycroft couldn't slip up.

"No one has come by to talk to you two yet, as far as I can tell," the doctor frowned, "Are you okay?"

Mycroft could have exploded. He was at least somewhat observant, and he was worried that they weren't feeling well. Mycroft shook his head.

"No, we're fine."

The doctor smiled at them.

"Alright. I'm John Watson. What are your names?"

Mycroft took a deep breath.

"I'm Mycroft and this is Sherlock, Dr. Watson."

"Those are odd names."

Doctor Watson was smiling knowingly. Why?

"I've been told they are, Dr. Watson."

"Well, Mycroft. Tell me how you knew I was a Doctor."

Mycroft froze. He had slipped up, _again_. He apologized mentally to Sherlock and sighed softly.

"My knew 'cause he's smart and actuwy wooks at peopwe," Sherlock said, moving closer to Mycroft. Mycroft wrapped an arm around his brother.

"I simply observed it from the details around you," he explained.

Doctor Watson, instead of looking shocked, or angry, or freaked out, _smiled_ at the two. "Well, that's very interesting. And brilliant. You're both brilliant."

Mycroft almost gaped at him as he stood up slowly, still smiling. "And I think I'd like to take you two home with me."

* * *

><p>Mycroft waited with the fidgety Sherlock at the door as Doctor Watson paid the taxi driver, before picking up the boys' suitcases and taking them to the door to wait with the boys as John unlocked the door.<p>

The door swung open to reveal the inside of the house that Mycroft and his brother would be living in for at least the next two months.

The house smelled like Doctor Watson – jam and toast and books and medicine – and was extremely clean. Doctor Watson herded Mycroft, Sherlock and their two suitcases into the house and closed the door behind them. "Welcome home," he said quietly, smiling at the two.

Mycroft stood there, looking around, as Sherlock wiggled his hand out of Mycroft's and ran about to explore. Doctor Watson smiled at him. "Do you like it?" he asked, watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. Mycroft relaxed a bit. Doctor Watson already knew to keep a close eye on Sherlock. Good.

"It's very nice," Mycroft said quietly. He shouldn't get too comfortable yet. If Doctor Watson decided that he didn't want them in the next two months, he could send them back with no hassle. It was just a trial period.

Doctor Watson smiled at him. "Do you two want separate rooms, or do you want to share a room? I have enough rooms for both."

Mycroft looked over at Sherlock, who was looking at wonder at Doctor Watson's professional books. "Share," he said quietly. Doctor Watson picked up the suitcases again.

"Come on, Sherlock. Come see your new room!"

Sherlock turned away from the books and ran back over to them, taking Mycroft's hand again and following them into their room. It was large, and held a bookshelf, a desk, and a bed. Doctor Watson put the suitcases down. "I can bring Sherlock's bed in here tomorrow, but you might have to share tonight."

Mycroft just nodded, a bit stuck by how large it was. Sherlock looked around in wide-eyed awe.

Doctor Watson picked up Sherlock and smiled at them both. "Now what would you two like for dinner?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft yawned and opened his eyes slowly. He was still in the room in John's house, staring at the wall. His body had curled around Sherlock in the night, who was still asleep. Mycroft yawned again and glanced out the window. Mycroft couldn't know for certain, due to the new location, but it was probably somewhere around nine twenty. He had slept much later than he normally did.

Mycroft shook Sherlock's shoulders gently, and the young boy shifted and peered up at him. He read that there wasn't anything wrong, just time to get up. Sherlock tumbled out of the bed, landing curled up. Mycroft smiled and got out of the bed after him, stretching. He paused for a moment, deciding whether to wear the clothes that John had bought for them or to wear the clothes they had brought. Sherlock watched him, before deciding for both of them by walking over to the suitcases and pulling out one of his shirts and a pair of pants. Mycroft smiled and got dressed quickly.

John came in a while later, looking surprised to see them up. Mycroft finished pulling Sherlock's shirt over the messy curls and turned to John, who was smiling.

"Come on, you need to brush your teeth, then you can have breakfast." John herded them both into the bathroom. Mycroft picked up a toothbrush, going to brush Sherlock's teeth. John shook his head and took the toothbrush from Mycroft.

"I'll do it. You brush your own teeth." John put a bit of toothpaste on the brush.

Mycroft frowned. Sherlock only ever listened to him when it came to this sort of thing. It would be easier to let him do it than to fight with Sherlock.

John smiled at Sherlock and carefully kneeled. "Open up, Sherlock." To Mycroft's surprise, Sherlock opened his mouth and John started to gently brush his teeth. After about thirty seconds, Sherlock started to get fidgety, bored and wanting to be done with this tedious activity. John shook his head. "Hold still," he said quietly, "I'm almost done." Sherlock whined, but John ignored it and kept brushing. Finally, Sherlock was so fidgety that John shook his head and took the brush out. "I suppose that's good enough." He stood up slowly and picked Sherlock up. "Spit." Sherlock spit into the sink and John put him down to fill up a cup. "Swish." Sherlock made a face, wanting to be done already, but swished as John picked him back up and then spit into the sink. He started to squirm and shot off as soon as John put him down again.

John chuckled and Mycroft spit into the sink. John smiled at him. "Let's go find out what your brother wants for breakfast."

They found Sherlock in John's room, jumping on his bed. John shook his head and picked up Sherlock, who squirmed and cried. "I wanna jump!" John sighed and put the sulking Sherlock in a booster seat at the table. Mycroft sat next to him, folding his hands in his lap. He had to be good to outbalance Sherlock's bad so John would still want them at the end of the two months. It was just the first day, and Sherlock was already making it hard.

John shook his head, but fondly, not upset. Mycroft relaxed a little. "What do you want for breakfast, Mycroft? I have cereal and oatmeal, and I can make eggs and toast and bacon…" John listed for him. "I also have water, orange juice, apple juice and milk."

Mycroft blinked at him for a moment. "Could I have some oatmeal? And milk, please?" John nodded and put the kettle on to boil some water. Then he went over to Sherlock and picked him up. Sherlock wiggled and whined, but John held tight.

"And what do you want, Sherlock?"

"I wanna jump!"

Mycroft tensed. Sherlock needed to stop. He needed to be good. John would take good care of them if he adopted them.

John shook his head and put him up on the counter. "If you're good, you get dessert."

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, processing the new information. "What do we get for dessert?"

John smiled. "It's a surprise. But I promise you'll like it."

Sherlock thought about this for a moment before sitting down on the counter. "I want milk. And cereal."

John chuckled softly and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "Alright. Milk and cereal it is."

Mycroft relaxed a little. It seemed John could handle Sherlock's sulks. He really would be perfect. Mycroft stood up and padded over to them. John looked down at him and smiled, ruffling his hair. Mycroft smiled a little back. A perfect father for them.

* * *

><p>Mycroft watched as John zipped up Sherlock's jacket. Sherlock was fidgeting, and whining softly. Mycroft could clearly see what was going through his head. 'It was obvious that he was ready to go! Why was John taking so long?' Mycroft walked across the living room as John got up, leaning heavily on his cane. He was having a bad day. Sometimes John could go without the cane, but sometimes he needed it badly.<p>

Sherlock raised his hands, asking to be picked up, and John sighed softly. "Not today, Sherlock." Sherlock started to whine, but Mycroft took Sherlock's hand and Sherlock fell quiet, but still pouted.

John took them outside, locking the door behind them and hailed down a taxi. Sherlock smiled and bounced on his feet. Mycroft could see that he was excited that they were going out. John hadn't been going to take them at first, but his friend had said there were going to be other kids there. They were going to John's friend's house. John went to see this friend, Mr. Lestrade, every Thursday to go drinking, but they were meeting up for Mr. Lestrade's birthday party this time. Sherlock was ecstatic that he got to go out. They had only been able to the park with Mrs. Hudson, their babysitter.

John got both of the kids into the taxi before sliding in himself, giving the address that the taxi was to drop them off at. Sherlock crawled into Mycroft's lap to look out the window at the darkening city. Mycroft wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, bracing them for when the taxi driver slowed to a stop at intersections.

Sherlock watched the city go by with wide-eyes, even as the city faded into a more suburban area. The taxi slowly came to a stop and John paid the taxi driver as Sherlock and Mycroft climbed out. John slowly pulled himself out of the taxi, leaning on his cane and taking Sherlock's hand, leading them up to a door and knocking.

The door opened and the man at the door smiled. "John!"

John chuckled. "Happy Birthday, Greg."

Mycroft frowned. This man had been the policeman that had given the orphanage a tour of the Yard. The man got down on his knees and held his hand out. "Detective Lestrade, as I'm sure you remember."

Sherlock took Lestrade's hand and shook it. "You get to mess with bodies," he stated simply. Detective Lestrade laughed and stood back up, gesturing for them to come in.

Mycroft was looking around, watching the adults to see if any were potentially dangerous, when a little girl crashed right into him, knocking them both over with an oomph and a clatter.

Mycroft took a deep breath to calm down and not yell at the girl as he stood up, before offering her a hand. She took it and got up, picking back up the cell phone that had fell from her hand. She checked it over for damage and then turned her attention to Mycroft, looking him over. Mycroft stared at her. She was about eight, and an average height. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with just a small wave to it. She stood confidently, not intimidated by anyone in the room. She was really pretty…

The girl stuck out her hand. "I'm Anthea. I'm going to be a super spy gadget maker. And maybe also a super spy."

Mycroft blinked at her. She had paused just slightly before saying her name. It wasn't her name. Why was she lying? Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking "Anthea's" hand, shaking it. "I'm Mycroft…" He stopped. What did he want to be when he grew up…? "I want to be boss of the super spies!" he blurted out, blushing faintly.

"Anthea" giggled and smiled. "Then you'd be my boss!" She grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's play spies!"

Mycroft bit his lip and looked over at his brother, who was now clinging to John's leg, glaring at Anthea. John stopped his conversation to pat Sherlock's head. "I'll take care of Sherlock, Mycroft. Go play with your friend."

Mycroft smiled widely and let Anthea take his hand and drag him off.


	3. Chapter 3

John sighed and wished his leg didn't hurt so he could pick up Sherlock. The three year old was pouting, and sending glares over at the girl that Mycroft was playing with. He leaned over to run his hands through Sherlock's hair as a man came over to him. "Is that your son?" he asked, pointing at Mycroft.

John blinked and stood up straight. "Yes. Did he do something?"

The man shook his head. "No! No, it's just he and Jane seem to be getting on so well, I was thinking we could do a play date." He held out his hand, "I'm Will. Dimmock. I work with Lestrade."

John smiled, relaxing and took Will's hand, shaking it. "Your daughter's name is Jane? I don't think that's what she told Mycroft." Will was attractive, not stunningly so, but that sort of beauty always intimidated John. The man also seemed nice. If John didn't already have Sarah, he might have tried to make a move of him.

Will chuckled. "No, she never does tell anyone that. She doesn't like her name. I would let her change it, but that's what her mother wanted her to be named, so…" Will sighed, watching the two kids play.

John frowned. "Your wife, did she…?"

Will looked over at him, confusion fluttering over his face for a moment. "What? I don't- Oh! Oh, no, I don't have a wife. I adopted Jane; she's my sister's kid. My sister didn't want her and I've always wanted kids, but…"

John nodded, ruffling Sherlock's hair again. "No one to have them with? I know how that is."

Will looked over at John and shook his head. "No, I don't have anyone to have them with. How about your kids? Where's their mother?"

Sherlock clung to John's leg, watching Will silently as John straightened. "I wouldn't know. They're orphans; I'm adopting them."

Will nodded, watching John's face. "So, are you-"

"He's got a girfwiend," Sherlock interrupted, "My said that he did. My says that means that no one ese can have him, evwen if someone ese wants him. So you don't get him."

John turned bright red. "Sherlock, first of all, don't interrupt adults, and second, I'm sure that Mr. Dimmock has no interest in me that way, right?" John looked up at Will, who was blushing faintly and not looking John in the eyes. John flushed even redder and turned back to Sherlock. "Either way, you shouldn't say things like that, Sherlock."

Sherlock pouted and held his hands to be picked up. John sighed and sat down in a nearby empty seat, putting the cane down and picking up the small boy. Sherlock leaned against John's chest, still watching Mycroft and the girl.

Will sat down nearby. "Sorry," he apologized, "That was inappropriate-"

John shook his head, blushing again, "Don't worry about it. While I'm flattered by your interest, as Sherlock said, I do have a girlfriend…" John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair and looked down at the child as he stated simply, "I would probably have asked you out for drinks myself if I didn't."

Will nodded, a smile coming back to his face. "I understand how that is."

Sherlock crawled out of John's lap and walked over to Will, holding his arms up to be picked up. Will chuckled and picked the three year old up. Sherlock snuggled against the man and closed his eyes. John smiled. "You're lucky. You got the Sherlock seal of approval. I haven't seen anyone able to pick up Sherlock other than Mycroft and I. Not even Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock adores her."

Sherlock didn't move, obviously tired. John shook his head. "It is close to his bedtime. Although he won't want to fall asleep without his story…" Sherlock cracked open an eye at the word 'story' as John started going through his back and pulling out _Gray's Anatomy_.

Sherlock sat up, and Will scooted his chair right up against John's. The Detective raised an eyebrow at the book choice, but said nothing. Sherlock leaned back against Will as John began to read from where they had left off.

"The Oblique Vein of the Left Atrium is a small vessel which descends obliquely on the back of the left atrium and ends in the coronary sinus near its left extremity…"

Sherlock soon fell asleep. Greg let them put the small boy in a guest room.

A few hours later, Mycroft and Jane/Anthea joined the three year old.

The next morning, while gathering up their kids after having helped Lestrade pick up from the last night, neither of the two parents mentioned the drunk kiss they had shared.

* * *

><p>The waiting room in the children's section of the hospital was loud. Sherlock was not happy to be there. He wanted John! John had vanished into one of the other rooms. John had left the boring lady at the desk in charge, but she had just told them to be quiet and gave them a lollipop. Sherlock sat quietly in Mycroft's lap and sucked on his lollipop, but he was not happy. He glared at the stupid, sick children. Mycroft wasn't paying attention. He was probably thinking about that stupid girl that had taken Mycroft away to play with her <em>without<em> Sherlock.

Sherlock crawled out of Mycroft's lap, who glanced at him and told him to go play with the toys before not paying attention again. Sherlock glared at the toys that the other kids were playing with. He wanted John! He wanted John to come and read his book to him.

Sherlock glanced over at Mycroft, who was still thinking about that girl, and walked over to the desk. The boring lady gave Sherlock another lollipop and shooed him off. Sherlock stuck it in his mouth and walked out into the hallway that John had left in. Sherlock looked around, trying to figure out what room John had gone into.

Sherlock weaved through the legs of nurses and doctors, who didn't give him a second thought. He had just turned a corner when hands grabbed him from underneath his arms and picked him up. They were a lady's hands; they weren't big enough to be a boy's.

Sherlock squirmed and started to cry. The lady turned him around in her arms and Sherlock recognized the girl from a picture that John had.

"Whose kid are you?" the lady asked. Sherlock squirmed more.

"I want John!" he declared, starting to kick. The lady just held him tighter.

"Alright, I'll take you to John." The lady carried him down hallways, turning this way and that, and opened a door. John was looking down the throat a little boy with short brown hair.

"John, is this one of yours?" The lady didn't like Sherlock. Sherlock could hear it in her voice. Sherlock started to kick again, holding his arms out to John.

"John!" he whined.

"He was wandering the halls," the lady explained, still not putting Sherlock down. John sighed and stood up, limping over and taking Sherlock from the lady.

"Thank you, Sarah. I'll make sure he doesn't anymore."

Sarah nodded, and Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her. He didn't like her either! John sighed and closed the door again and put Sherlock down in a chair.

"Sit."

Sherlock swung his feet. They didn't touch the floor. John turned back to the boy.

"Alright, Sebastian, you can get down now. Mrs. Wilkes, I believe he has a mild case of strep throat. We'll have to wait until tomorrow to be sure, though. Just make sure he rests and drinks a lot of water. I'll call you tomorrow."

The boy, Sebastian, hoped off the table and went over to his mother, who was nodding. Sherlock stared at him. The boy was older than him, but not by much.

"If he needs to west, he shouwdn't be wunning though the stweets in his schoo outfit," Sherlock said, still kicking his feet. Sebastian had mud on the bottom of shoes, which had colors that matched the school uniform he was wearing.

Everyone turned to look at Sherlock, who blinked at them. Couldn't they tell that he had been running through the mud? Sebastian and his mother looked angry at him, and John looked tired.

"You've been running through the streets in your school uniform?" Sebastian's mother asked her son angrily as she stood up. Sebastian paled.

"No! I wasn't!"

Sebastian glared at Sherlock as he was pulled out of the room, his mother lecturing him.

John sighed and got up, picking up Sherlock.

"Please don't say things like that when Sarah comes over for dinner tonight. We want her to like you. She doesn't want kids, and we have to convince her otherwise."

Sherlock leaned against John. "Wead me my book?"

John chuckled and left the room, taking Sherlock back to the waiting room. "I will read your book to you if you promise to stay with Mycroft in the waiting room until I come to get you. Okay?"

Sherlock nodded as John put him down next to Mycroft, who was promising to keep a better eye on him. John ruffled Mycroft's hair and kissed Sherlock's forehead before leaving again.

Sherlock sat down next to Mycroft and watched the sick kids play.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm scared to post this because everyone will hate Sarah, and that wasn't the point… She just doesn't want kids, and it's biasing her towards Sherlock and Mycroft. And she didn't think that Mycroft's listening in… She's not a bad person...

* * *

><p>Mycroft held onto Sherlock and read from Gray's Anatomy to keep the toddler from running around. John looked nervous, and was jumping about, cleaning here, stirring here… His girlfriend obviously did not like the house dirty; they had been going out for at least a year, and John still made sure to clean up before she came over.<p>

Sherlock squirmed in Mycroft's lap when the older boy stopped reading.

"Hold still, Sherlock. We've got to be good tonight. If John's girlfriend doesn't like us-"

"She doesn't like me!" Sherlock stuck out his tongue and squirmed, "Put me down!"

"No, Sherlock. We have to be good, so John still wants us…."

Sherlock pouted, but held still. "John wiw aways wan _me_. He migh not wan _you_."

Mycroft stiffened and held Sherlock tightly. "Come on, were did we leave off?"

The doorbell rang and Mycroft heard John cut off a curse. Sherlock tried to jump out of Mycroft's lap, but Mycroft grabbed the younger boy's wrist and held on tight. They followed John to the front door, and Mycroft stood up straight. John opened the door, hugging the woman. She kissed John softly and John moved aside to let her in.

Sherlock stuck her tongue out at her, and Mycroft squeezed his wrist hard, a clear "stop it". The woman's face hardened, but she put on a fake smile. "I've already met Sherlock, so you must be Mycroft. My name is Sarah." Her dislike was screaming in her tone.

John ushered them all into the dining room. Mycroft helped Sherlock into his booster seat before crawling into his own chair. Dr. Sarah sat down across from Sherlock, next to the head of the table.

John brought the food out, laying out the pasta on the table before serving both Sherlock and Mycroft. John let Dr. Sarah serve herself before serving himself and sitting down.

Mycroft and Sherlock were quiet as they ate; Dr. Sarah and John discussed how work had been that week. Mycroft was almost relaxing when Sherlock finished his food and interrupted their talk.

"I want pie."

Dr. Sarah paused, having been cut off midsentence.

"I don't have any pie, Sherlock," John said, picking up a serviette and wiping sauce off of Sherlock's face. Sherlock squirmed and whined.

"But I want pie!"

"Sherlock. I don't have pie."

"Yes, you do! Mycroft said that we were having pie because you smelled like that bakery down the street and you only smell like that bakery when you get pie!"

John glanced at Mycroft, who sunk down into his seat a little. "I'm sorry, John… At least you got Sherlock's least favorite flavour… Well, if you got Dr. Sarah's favorite flavour, blueberry."

John put the serviette down when Sherlock's face was clean and picked the small boy up, trying to calm him down. Dr. Sarah stared at Mycroft.

"How did you know blueberry was my favorite flavour, Mycroft? I don't think I've ever told John that; we've never had pie together before."

Mycroft could have hit himself. Stupid! He had messed up, again! And Sherlock wasn't helping by being so whiny. Mycroft sunk a bit lower in his seat.

"At your work… A man brought some pie in for one of your coworkers and you stole it. You wouldn't have stolen it if it wasn't your favorite flavour…"

Dr. Sarah stared at him a bit more, her dislike increasing. Mycroft looked down at his lap. John had vanished into the kitchen with Sherlock. They were silent for a beat, and then John and Sherlock returned. John put the pie on the table and served Mycroft and Sherlock a piece. Sherlock moved the plate over to John's place and crawled into John's lap. Mycroft ate his pie silently, looking down at the table.

John and Sarah returned to their conversation, John occasionally ruffling Sherlock's curls. Mycroft got up after his finished his pie. "May I be excused?" he asked quietly, looking down at his shoes. He could tell by the way that John shifted to look at him that the man was worried about him.

"Yes, you may."

"Thank you." Mycroft ducked out of the dining room into the hallway, and sat down quietly next to the door to listen to the conversation. It was like he was being a real spy, almost. Mycroft almost smiled when he thought of Anthea. She was his first friend, ever.

Mycroft sat up straighter when he heard John shoo Sherlock off to play with his toys. Sherlock's footsteps let out into the living room, though, not towards the hallway.

"Are you sure you really want kids, John?"

Mycroft held his breath. This is the conversation he had wanted to listen to.

"You know I've always wanted children, Sarah."

"Are you sure you want _these_ children, then? The younger one seems like quite a handful and the older one is… odd."

Mycroft flinched and looked down at his lap. He was odd. Not normal. Neither was Sherlock, but Sherlock was three. He had time to change. He could learn how to not see all the details. How to block it out. Mycroft couldn't. He had tried, once, when he was seven, but had failed.

"Sarah, I love these kids. They're my sons. And if you're just going to call them names, you can leave." John was angry; angrier than Mycroft had ever seen him, even when Sherlock knocked over his great great grandmother's vase.

"You would pick these kids over your girlfriend?"

"They're my family, Sarah. They're my children."

Dr. Sarah sighed and stood up. Mycroft could hear the chair legs scrapping along the floor. "Well, John. I hope you can raise your family without me."

Mycroft got up silently and tiptoed back to his room so John wouldn't know he had listened in. He sat down on his- no, _John's_, they hadn't been adopted yet – bed and looked down at the floor. He wanted to cry. Would that be weird, if he cried? Maybe. Anthea had said that too. That he was weird. She had said it nicely, but she had still said it.

Sherlock appeared at the door, coming in to get some more toys to play with in the living room, and ran over to Mycroft, hugging him around his waist. Sherlock could tell that Mycroft was upset. Mycroft hugged Sherlock back. "It's okay, Sherlock. Nothing's wrong. Go play."

Sherlock looked up at him intensely for a moment, before letting go of him, grabbing some toys and leaving the room.

* * *

><p>It was about one in the morning when John roused them both, in a hurry.<p>

"Mycroft, just pull on a coat and shoes, and help Sherlock." John was gone again, going around and gathering things. Mycroft got out of bed quickly. John was obviously highly upset. Mycroft shook Sherlock until he knew the toddler was awake.

"Sherlock, get up. Hurry!"

The three year old whined and cracked open an eye, looking at Mycroft before rolling off the bed. Mycroft pulled a coat and shoes onto Sherlock before doing the same himself. He was just finishing tying his shoes when John burst back in. He was holding a bag, and he picked up Sherlock and took Mycroft's hand.

They rushed out of the house and caught a taxi, John telling the man directions and to hurry. They got out about ten minutes later. The place they were at was surrounded by police cars with the lights on, and covered in police tape. A pretty woman let them in.

Mycroft held on tight to Sherlock's hand. They were at a crime scene. Sherlock was fascinated, looking at everything with wide eyes. Mycroft made sure that they were close to John.

Detective Lestrade was on the ground, holding his foot. John stopped in front of him, looked him over and smacked him so hard the detective almost fell over.

"You bloody _idiot_. I get a call at one in the morning saying you're injured and to get over there right now, and it's because you got shot in the foot and you don't want to go to the hospital? I almost had a bloody heart attack!"

Mycroft held on tightly to Sherlock's hand, watching John lean down and look over the foot. Suddenly, Sherlock was being lifted up, away from Mycroft. Mycroft whirled around to hit the person who was kidnapping Sherlock-

"Relax, Mycroft, it's just me."

It was Anthea's dad, detective Dimmock. Sherlock leaned against the man, tired, but wanting to look at everything. Mycroft relaxed, and yawned, suddenly tired.

Detective Dimmock took Mycroft's hand and led him away from John. "You two don't need to see him operating on Lestrade's foot." Mycroft followed quietly, slowly, but the detective never asked him to speed up. When they got to a police car, detective Dimmock opened the front side door. He pushed down the seat and pulled out a blanket. Sherlock had already fallen back asleep. He ushered Mycroft into the car and got him to lie down, putting Sherlock next to him. He covered them with the blanket and closed the door. Mycroft could hear him talking to another police officer, a woman, as he fell asleep.


End file.
